


Oswald White and the Seven Penguins

by MyRegardstotheReader



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, Funny, Humor, M/M, crack ship, snow white theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRegardstotheReader/pseuds/MyRegardstotheReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for @themasterplanner , her prize for the reblog giveaway, she requested a crack fic of sorts and I had so much fun writing this. Also thank you to @themasterplanner for Beta/editing it as well ;) Summary: Oswald is under the wing of the evil queen Fish Mooney, when someone announces that oswald is prettier than her. Which is a crime punishable by death. Oswald on the run for his life, is saved by seven unlikely giant penguins and well… the rest is a fairy tale… in the traditional Gotham style</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oswald White and the Seven Penguins

Like all good fairy tales, this story takes place once upon a time, long ago in a place far, far away.

(Last week, actually, which is an incredibly long time by Gotham standards.) 

(And Gotham City, to most, is a far off place. Anyone who lives outside of Gotham would forget it was even there, if it wasn't the sole reason that New York had crime rates so high they could tickle the clouds.)

This fairy tale, however, isn’t your ordinary fairy tale about a good fairy princess who is in distress.

Oswald was certainly in distress, but he is neither a good princess, nor a fairy. His suit is dirty, his hair greasy, and his face covered in muck. Ever since Fish Mooney forced his face to the floor of the parlor, he could never quite get the residue off. Fish Mooney, despite being a fair business woman, was a horrible queen to her people ever since the good King Falcone retired to Florida. Anyone and everyone was a victim of her cruelty, especially her underling Oswald.

“Come here Princess.” Fish would tease him. “Come and rub my feet. Clean the floors. Come here my pretty little princess.”

Oswald loathed his nickname, and loathed even more the sparkling tutus she often forced him to wear over his suits when she was more drunk than all of the guests to her “kingdom” combined. One day her belittling would end, one day he’d show her… but for now, he sat beside her chair, with his dirty suit and knees as the next performer clambered up on stage.

The mirror on the wall, a stage performer. Always loyal to Fish, ever the flirt, the man wore a glittering suit of chrome and silver and enticed the crowd. A fortune teller for some, an oracle for other, a mystic man. What a sham! Oswald rolled his eyes as he pulled his crooked knee back into a comfortable place.

“Someone… anyone! Ask the mirror a question!” he called out into the eager crowd of courtiers.

Fish smirked and put up her hand. “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall… who is the prettiest of them all?”

The man grinned wickedly, knowing his part. Oswald sighed, deciding he would rather drown himself in the bar sink than watch another moment of this. Maybe he could find something else to do. Only, when he stood, the mirror corrected his stance. Oswald stood, dusting off his suit quietly, brushing his hair and brushing past a few people, towards the back room that was past the stage.

“My queen, you are fair, it's true. But your umbrella boy is prettier than you.”

With that, the whole kingdom fell silent. Oswald’s heart was in his throat as he whirled around to catch dark eyes. Dark, red, malicious eyes that were ready to devour someone. Oh no… Oh great! Oswald grimaced. This whole place was insane, and he would die painfully because a joke on stage thought he was pretty. HIM? Have they even seen him? Was this a cruel prank? A prank Fish would never forget!

Oswald was not clean, nor was he dashing; his suit was torn and dirty, and he hadn’t even brushed his teeth this morning. They HAD to be joking. Another cruel prank at his expense. The man would break into cackles and Fish Mooney would sneer. No one would ever seriously say that Oswald was more beautiful than Fish Mooney. They would die.

But the laws of reality seemed lost on him as Oswald nearly broke his neck attempting to run from the claws of the screaming evil queen. Her sequined robes were restrictive, which made it almost insane how fast she was. You would think her stiletto heels would slow her down, but she took at him like a dragon in flight. Oswald would have screamed if he had the air in his lungs to do so, toppling out of the club just long enough to waddle himself down the alley and into another darkness. Much darker than any darkness he’d ever seen before, if darknesses could be compared to each other.

If there was a fate, if there was a god, whatever its nature they hated him. They had to have. First he owed his life to the evil queen, now she wanted to collect for something SOMEONE ELSE had said. These people were beyond mental help. Oswald panted and cried fat crocodile tears in the chilly, foggy darkness that was the back alleys of Gotham.

“Someone… help me!” he squeaked, his throat dry and choked as he fell to his knees. “Please!” Everything hurt. Everything was cold and wet. He just wanted to go home to his real mother. He just wanted to curl up on his bed and never see this horrid place ever again. There was a harsh scratching sound that ran his blood cold as his shivering flesh and he turned slowly to see shadows in the dark.

He could see a manhole cover, it was slowly moving and pushing itself aside on top of the street. Oswald had no more words or screams to give as he crawled away from the giant hole and shivered, the only heat he had dripping down his cheeks. Then, making his way toward him, was something more peculiar than he’d ever seen before.

(And Oswald lived in Gotham!)

Seven penguins, HUGE penguins, stood before him. Huddled closely in front of him, their wings flapping uselessly beside them, they swung side to side in their waddling towards him. As they honked and squeaked at him in the darkness, Oswald found he couldn’t run. He didn’t even have it in him even if he could run. Flippers wrapping around him, Oswald actually let himself be dragged and honked at into the sewer below. Anything was honestly better than being hunted by Fish Mooney and her flying monkeys…. wrong henchmen, but Oswald thought it an oddly accurate description of Butch Gilzean.

~~~~~

“You want me to… what?” Jim Gordon hissed, eyeing the woman in the chair before him. The police station was clean for once, but that would soon end. Fish Mooney and her mob ran the whole station, every cop, and denying her something was asking for death. Which is why the people of Gotham called the police “huntsmen” instead of cops, because they were just glorified hunters now. Hunters of all sorts of people and things that Fish wanted found.

Which is, incidentally, what Fish Mooney wanted him to do. “I want you, my huntsman, to find Oswald Cobblepot and bring me back his heart.”

Jim carefully arranged his face into something resembling professionalism. “I can’t just… arrest him?”

Fish snapped her fingers and pointed to the ornate box on the desk. “NO! I want his actual heart. In that box, bring me back his heart.” 

Jim grimaced towards the stylishly-dressed woman. Not that she wasn’t beautiful. But she was also megalomaniac, psychotic, and a deadly cunning vicious overlord. Jim secretly wanted nothing more than to stick it to Fish Mooney, but he knew better than to try. Best not slap the hand that feeds, or something of that ilk. Jim Gordon just hoped that this Oswald person was worth ripping out his heart.

Which seemed to him a bit much for someone to endure. What had this person done to gain THAT punishment?

 

~~~~~

Jim Gordon searched the streets of Gotham like the good huntsman he was. His eyes and nose were to the ground, figuratively, when he caught onto the scent and sight of someone. The scent first, which made him gag first, then groan to himself. It smelt like death… and fish. Nothing smelled worse than death, unless it was fish. When he came up to the muck-covered person laying in the gutter, he realized they were still breathing.

Best not let the poor thing die while he worked on finding this “Oswald.”

What Jim didn’t know was the baggage this person had as he drug him into his home. And by baggage, he meant penguins.

“Penguins aren’t even indigenous to New York!” Jim huffed, glaring at the seven freakishly large birds in his living room. Seriously, they unnerved him. They were like tank penguins, ready and able to take him out in a fist fight. The man he had saved was busy scrubbing himself clean in his shower.

“They’re not so bad, once you get used to them,” his guest called out of the bathroom, finally emerging. The man looked -- and smelled -- much better than the wretched creature he'd pulled out of the gutter earlier. Jim smiled, happy to have at least helped someone today in his job as a cog in the corrupt Gotham machinery. The man’s raven-black hair almost sparkled, it was so clean and fluffy now, his porcelain-white skin looked freshly scrubbed, his teeth were even a more pleasant color. He wore one of Jim’s old suit pants, which was still incredibly too big, but the belt fastened them to his small hips. Jim had to force himself to stop admiring the smaller man’s lean body as the two of them stood in silence.

“How long have you lived with them?”

“Two days… they bring me canned tuna from the dumpsters, as I refuse to eat their sewer cuisine,” he laughed. “They attempted to regurgitate food into my mouth as they do their chicks, but --”

“Jim, Jim Gordon.” Jim put out his hand and the other man took it excitedly. Jim wouldn’t have missed the look he gave him for the world. Like he was a shimmering prince in golden armor before him, which was all the ego stroking he needed for the century.

“Oh…I’m… White. Snow White,” he blurted out, smiling sheepishly. 

Jim laughed, eyeing the man. The name certainly fit.

“Okay Snow… come on, I bet I’ve got something better than canned tuna.” 

Their dinner was mostly quiet, both men tearing into their cooked chicken strips and french fries like a pair of starving dogs. It wasn’t much, but it was better than Snow had had in forever, or so he said. Jim knew he was lying, but this was Gotham. It probably meant that this Snow was in trouble, and didn’t want to be found. As long as some other huntsman didn’t come busting into his home, Jim would be fine.

“Thank you, Jim, for your generous assistance, but we must be going.” Snow said, looking to the seemingly agitated mutant penguins. “They are ready to return home.”

Jim jumped a bit, looking to them then to Snow. “I’m not making you leave, if that’s what this is.” Jim corrected, realizing all too soon that he didn’t want the beautiful boy to leave. Those doe-like blue-green eyes were a welcome change to his blank and dull apartment.

“No, no, of course not. But we ought to go home. Thank you.” Snow hurriedly pocketed a few pieces of bread in a plastic bag and thanked Jim again. Jim almost had the urge to stop him, ask him to stay the night. Maybe just the night, maybe more. Don’t leave, mysterious snow man. Whoever he was, he was alluring and charming, and despite the fact that they were basically strangers, he liked the company.

“You should… come again.” Jim murmured.

Snow turned and smiled at him from the hallway, his seven penguins already marching down the hall. Their honks urged him to follow, but Snow resisted for just a few more moments.

“Maybe I will…” He batted his lashes and smiled softly back at Jim, the pink on his clean cheeks suited him. Jim thought of offering more, but the man and his pack of penguins was out of his hall and out of his sight before he could think of anything to say.

Jim decided it was time to go to sleep, then hit the road again tomorrow for Oswald. Only to stop when he looked to the television that had been muted this whole time. On the screen was a familiar face and his eyes went wide. Snow… SNOW WAS OSWALD! How had he been so stupid?! He had his mark in his grasp this whole time. The story of how “the mirror” was now a dead man and Oswald was wanted by Fish, played silently on the television and Jim felt something beyond anything he’d ever felt before.

Because now he could never kill Oswald.  
He had to get Oswald out of the city!

~~~~~

Oswald sat in the driest (relatively) part of the sewers, his delicate fingers tracing the lines on the shirt Jim Gordon gave him to wear. It was soft and the scent of the huntsman was slowly leaving the clothing. Maybe he ought to go back up there, see Jim again. The only person in the city who didn’t want to kill him. The penguins didn’t count. Not that he really counted them as people, because they weren't, but right now, they were the only family he had. That had to count for something.

That it, he had made up his mind, he’d go out to see the huntsman, or whatever they called the police in this ridiculous kingdom. Oswald stood to leave, stopping only at the consistant honking from his penguins. They shook and trembled and danced, honking at him to stay. But Oswald had no idea what they wanted, because he couldn't understand penguin.

“I’m only getting food,” he lied. But even at that they refused to let him leave. They stood by the ladder and honked, surrounding him. “Please, I can’t eat raw mutant fish like you all… I have to find food.”

They finally receded, letting him leave. Slowly, up the ladder, Oswald emerged into the city, unsuspecting of anyone even knowing who or where he was. He was halfway down the street, following the way to Jim’s as he remembered it, when he was stopped by a girl on the street, offering him a delicious-looking pastry on a paper plate.

“Free cannoli?” she asked, smiling brightly. “It’s in appreciation of my bakery’s first anniversary!”

Oswald never denied good food, especially when it was free. “Of course, thank you.”

He took the slightly warm cannoli, walking with it down the street. He was three bites in when he realized two odd things: a strange apple flavor in the treat, and a strange fuzzy feeling in his head. Before he knew it, he was on the sidewalk and eyes rolled back in his head.

~~~~~

Jim Gordon knew who it was before he saw the male on the stretcher. There in the hospital, he stood over Oswald, his heart sinking into the floor. He had been trying to find him to help him escape. Even gave Fish Mooney a corpse’s heart, thanks to Edward Nygma finding him a fresh one without any judgment.

But Fish didn’t believe him and Jim knew he would be next if he didn’t fix this. He had to fix this somehow. Except, how could he do that if the person he needed in order to fix it, was dead.

“He’s not dead.”

Jim practically jumped out of his skin, turning to Edward Nygma in the doorway. “Ed… they declared him dead on arrival.”

“He’s not dead… Look.” Edward pulled out a plastic baggie, pointing to the bitten-into dessert inside it. “It’s got high levels of paralytic, among other chemicals. My guess, someone wanted everyone to think he was dead, so they could finish the job later themselves, or worse. He won’t wake up, but it makes him seem dead, and he can’t revive until...”

Jim eyed the tall, lanky forensic scientist, who was almost bursting with glee at this. Edward was enjoying this far more than Jim was. Creepy. Sighing, but giving in, he motioned with his hand for Edward to continue. The tall man practically bounced as he came into the room and handed over a small vial.

“The cure.” Edward grinned.

“The cure?” Jim asked.

“The cure, if you give it to him, he’ll wake up within minutes,” Edward grinned, only for that grin to turn wicked. “But there is a catch.”

“Here we go,” Jim grumbled.

“It has to be given orally…” 

Before he could ask for more information, Edward was gone, leaving Jim with the vial and the body of Oswald. Orally? By mouth? How the hell was he supposed to do that? If he just poured it down his throat, Oswald would drown. Well… he could… Oh great. Jim Gordon swore he would get Nygma back for this, but first he had to wake Sleeping Beauty. 

Jim chuckled at his own joke as he stepped up to Oswald’s body lying on the table. Jim pulled the cork out the vile with his teeth and spit it aside, slowly lifting Oswald’s head with his other hand, half-expecting Edward to have a camera somewhere ready to document this. If the forensic genius wasn't so useful, he'd strangle him. Slowly he took some of the draught into his mouth, surprised it tasted like nothing. Here goes nothing.  
Weird ass scientists and horrible city of crazy people! Welcome to Gotham!

Jim pressed his lips against Oswald's, not letting himself enjoy how soft or cold they were. He merely moved Oswald’s mouth against his to allow the liquid to slowly pour down into Oswald’s throat. He took it slow, making sure only a little bit dripped down as best he could without spilling it all over or wasting it. 

It was like something clicked inside him, or more, inside Oswald, who slowly grew warm underneath him. Jim pulled away, taking the vial to his lips again, then back to Oswald’s, half alive, barely conscious as the liquid trickled down his throat.

Before he knew what to do or how to react, Oswald was gripping at his shirt and their lips were tangled. A man who had just been dropped against this table, pronounced dead, was now kissing and pulling Jim in close. Cold fingers tangled in his short hair and Jim was inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Ahem?” 

Jim yanked back, wide-eyed and mouth gaping like a slapped mackerel as he saw Harvey Bullock stood in the doorway. 

“If you’re done making out with the dead guy, should we go arrest Fish now?”

Jim looked back to Oswald who was red in the face, and panting hard, still perched on the table.

“I … I um… I should probably go with him.” Jim muttered, motioning towards Bullock.

“Yes, you should.” Oswald swallowed hard. Jim nearly raced towards the door when he heard the voice of Oswald again and it stopped him. “Thank you… again, Jim Gordon.”

“No worries, Snow White.” He turned and winked at Oswald, who only blushed again.

“I should… thank you properly, once you’re … less busy.” Oswald cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair.

“I think you’re about to be more busy than me.” Jim shrugged, straightening out his suit. “You are the princess, remember… someone’s going to take over after Fish.”

Oswald scowled and went to correct Jim, but the huntsman was already gone. With a groan and a sigh, Oswald pushed himself back onto his feet. No use sitting around and dawdling. Jim did have a point after all, if they were going to take down Fish Mooney, then someone would have to take over. It might as well be him.

Oswald smirked to himself as he waddled towards the exit.

Maybe he ought to take this “princess” nickname to a new level. “Queen of Gotham” sounded much better.

The End


End file.
